Verde Veritas
by OkieDoki
Summary: Connections made later in life can matter more than the connections of earlier days ... but those in the earlier days will always define them. A young man returns to the city he abandoned, only to find that the years spent steadying his heart, techniques, and code are fragile in the face of old wounds. Will he retain the balance he has found, or will he crumble into darkness?


**AN:** I like reviews. They are yummy. And make me feel wanted. Which is awesome. I may be messing with ages a bit. I could use suggestions for superhero debut names, y'know, clever puns, for any of the U.A. Students … or pairing suggestions … or anything.

 **Verde Veritas**

 **Chapter One: Nostalgia**

Today was a day much like any other on a bustling street in the city: people walking, people working, people socializing, people dating. All entirely normal human activities that occurred in the daily routine. Here and there an obvious manifestation could be seen, but these differences did not stop children and adults alike from conversing. If anything, it gave them conversation material and a chance to show-off, many lamenting about how they did not pass a hero's exam at any of the premiere academies. But most had settled for another life in which they still could implement their quirk, and made their happiness from it. Construction workers on the development site using superhuman strength to assist the machines, with others spraying fire to seal the steel beams together; a baker with four arms twirling four pizza crusts in the air much to the amusement of street diners; a street entertainer changing his voice for passerby's change. With now 96% of the world's population manifesting quirks it only made sense that they could not all be heroes – yet it remained a prominent children's fantasy, much as they fantasized about becoming firemen, soldiers, artists, and fashionistas in early life.

A young man indistinguishable from the adults in the after-work swarm walked counter to the homeward-bound flow, wheeling an overstuffed suitcase behind him as he spoke sparingly on a cell phone. The sunlight warmed his back and illuminated the shop signs. Some he recognized, some he didn't. The people's faces resurrected some old memories, although he couldn't be certain he was seeing the same person.

"Yes. I'm calling to confirm the interview is still at 10:00 AM in Yorzuba's Hall. Equipment will be provided?"

Truthfully, he didn't even need to come down this street to get home. Or even come from the airport. But he felt driven by a sense of homecoming. The familiarity was there, but he was somewhat surprised to find a new sense of claustrophobia from the hordes of unfamiliar people in the streets.

"Yes. Yes. Thank you." He finished the phone call as he neared a shop with the most nostalgia: a hybrid comic and superhero-literature shop. "Huh. I wonder if they still have the 2-for-1 discount …"

He headed through the shop's entrance, almost getting his suitcase stuck in the automatic doors. He chuckled nervously as the shop owner raised a curious eyebrow. It wasn't a surprise, as the store really only attracted elementary- and middle-school students. Both of which were currently there, squealing at the newer magazines on the rack, no doubt loaded with a new generation of idols.

"Excuse me, do you still have the 2-for-1 discount on back-issues?"

The shop owner's face relaxed only somewhat. "Ah, we do. But it's actually 3-for-2."

"Even better. May I leave my suitcase up here? I'm afraid of knocking things off the racks."

"Certainly. Pardon though, are you an older customer? I don't recall you."

The failure to recognize him wasn't surprising. "Yes, but it's been a long time. Back-issues are still in the third-aisle?"

"Yes sir," The shop owner nodded, resuming his bookkeeping as he had enough reason to trust the young man.

The young man began selecting several somewhat-recent back-issues of Superhero Monthly, a catalog of regional superheroes and their debuts. He recognized relatively few, but some had clearly been inspired by predecessors. _Much like All Might_ …

"Hey look at page forty-two! Didn't this guy come from _our_ middle school?!" One of the children whispered excitedly to another in the aisle over.

"He's the first and _only_ one from our school! Bakugo Bomber! Explosive extraordinaire!"

 _Bakugo?_ Intrigued by the familiarity, he chose to eavesdrop on the fans.

"Isn't he working for the one of the big five firms now? He's so cool! I wonder if we can get his signature?"

"I thought his signature was a burnt-up copy of his autograph."

"Yeah, but it's still cool to have the ashes, right?"

"Absolutely!"

"Excuse me," He chose to enter the conversation, towering over the aisle and startling the two middle-school children, "are you talking about recent debuts?"

"… Yeah, what's it to you?"

"I'm just curious about the 'Bakugo Bomber'. Could you hand me a copy?" He extended a long arm down. The children, slightly weirded out, obliged by passing him a copy. "Thank you."

"Weirdo …"

"Come on, let's just buy it and go. We don't want to miss Super Hour tonight!"

"Yeah, the interviews are awesome on there! Who do you think they're going to talk about tonight?" The babble of fans scurrying away brought a small smile to the young man's face, remembering his own enthusiasm at that age. _Page forty-two …_

As it fell open he spied a familiar, albeit older, scowling ash-blond, red-eyed individual dressed in black and orange battle equipment, with his statistics and biography on the side. Pictures of some of his more famous explosive moments followed in the pages after. The anger and rage that plagued his youth seemed to be the same. _It is Bacchan._

"I bet he hates the nickname. And being on page _forty-two_." He could hardly fight the quiet laughter. "Looks like he's achieved what he's always wanted."

Gathering several back-issues and the new issue with Bacchan, he paid at the counter and left with a smile, still hauling his over-sized suitcase now further-stuffed with the magazines.

In a strange way, seeing the familiar scowl made him feel better about being back.

As dusk fell he found himself hauling his suitcase up quite a few flights of stairs – eight, to be precise – not in the least worn out but mildly frustrated at turning it around the corners. He rolled it halfway down the hall, but paused as he stood outside a very familiar, very old door …

The young man bit his lower lip, bowing his head. It was a difficult threshold to cross … the one outside, to the one of his family's apartment. Where his mother lived, his father sometimes dropped by between business trips, and where he grew up. He knew his keys were outdated. But if he didn't knock soon he risked sleeping out on the walkway, and he didn't feel much like talking to very surprised neighbors. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and gave a firm series of knocks. A minute passed before he heard the lock turn. The door squeaked opened, and his eyes locked with those of his mother's.

"Izuku!"

His mother rushed to hug her green-haired freckled son, and he bent down to accept it. "You're so tall now!"

"I'm sorry about being gone so long, Mom." Izuki whispered, embracing his mother. She had gained weight since he'd last seen her, but it wasn't surprising. Though he had remained in contact, his sudden departure years ago probably left her worried and stressed. "Truthfully, I'm only back for a job …"

"Doesn't matter. I'm glad you're home!" She tightened the embrace, only to drag him quickly inside. "Does this mean you're back for good?"

"For a while," he admitted, taking his shoes off. "A few months at least."

"I wish you had called, I would have had time to prepare you dinner! Or tell your father that you were coming!" She hurried into the kitchen, scrambling to fix a meal as pulled his suitcase just outside of his old room, taking in the surroundings. Aside from replacing some furniture, hardly anything had changed in the apartment. "What is your job?"

"You don't want to be surprised?" Izuku chuckled, fishing the magazines out of the suitcase before coming in and sitting at the dining table. "You'll figure it out soon enough. All the equipment's going to appear outside the door in a few days."

"Elusive as always," she shook her head, but couldn't rid herself of the smile. "It's strange, you're all grown up now."

"So are you," he retorted playfully, flipping one of the magazine pages open to Bacchan's page. "I also noticed Bakugou Katsuki made his professional debut."

"Yes, yes!" She nodded, remembering the childhood friend. Well, a unique sort of friend. "He graduated the top of his class recently from U.A. Academy. His mother told me he's attending the P.H. University for extended training and working at one of the big five firms regionally."

"Mmm …"

His mother looked at Izuku, slightly concerned. "Izuku … did you achieve what you wanted to? Was … was all this time worth it?"

A silence hung between them for a while, but Izuku slowly nodded, smiling. "Yes. It was worth it."

He felt too full to unpack after the generous meal his mother served him, so he excused himself to quietly read the remainder of the magazines on the balcony. There were a lot of new heroes in town, but that was hardly surprising. Many were notorious for retiring young having amassed enough wealth or injuries. Yet he saw some old faces … surprisingly, or perhaps not so, the recent issue had a lot of the recent graduates of U.A. Academy aside from Bacchan. But it had an old face listed as one of the professors of that year … All Might.

It didn't matter how much he distanced himself from that day, but now when he thought of All Might, he only felt a bitter sting in his heart. The man was still a hero to him, only not the hero he had expected. The day he had met all Might as a twelve-year-old snotty brat began as a dream come true and ended in near-despair. The day his quirklessness left him vulnerable to villains, the day he was told off by heroes, the day he nearly ended up as many quirkless people did ...

"Never meet your heroes, right?" He mumbled, flipping through the rest of the pages. His quirklessness didn't bother him anymore. All Might had meant well … it didn't mean, though, that it didn't hurt.

He turned his attention to two cats having a territorial spat on some of the balconies across the street. A rolly-polly calico and an older tiger-stripped cats were hissing, chasing each other back into their respective territories. The calico would at times back off in fear, but swat when the tiger cat came too close.

"At least they don't have to worry about their quirks," he chuckled, slightly amused. He recognized the older cat, it had been there when they were both respectively younger. The fatter one must be new. The older cat started to chase the fatter cat along the rail, but the calico stepped a few steps too far …

At the moment the cat slipped from his rail, Izuku had pushed himself onto the top of the balcony's ledge, and launched himself forward - free in the air, eight stories above the pavement below …

He closed his eyes, calculating where the cat would be in the next moment and visualizing himself there as his skin prickled. When he opened them he found himself now beneath the cat, both of them falling, stretching one arm out to the cat and the other to the railing. He grabbed the cat –

\- but his fingers slipped against the iron railing -

 _Shit shit shit – OH!_ He momentarily tucked in his head to avoid whacking himself against the concrete divide between floors but immediately grasped the railing of the apartment underneath, nearly yanking his arm out of his shoulder's socket. The cat was nowhere near happy, clawing at his other arm and clearly alarmed.

"Phew, almost …" he muttered, reinforcing his grasp on both the cat and railing. "You owe me cat, I saved you one of your nine lives and nearly lost my own!"

The rolly-polly cat simply hissed in return as it wrestled its way out of his grasp and used Izuku's head to launch itself back onto a balcony. _Still, it's good to know that I can do this effectively in a hurry. I was worried I was getting rusty …_ Relaxing as he continued to hang from the railing, he took a deep breath, letting the pricking tingle once again reclaim his body. He blinked, finding himself back on his mother's balcony.

Silently hoping that no one saw his stunt, he stumbled back into the chair, gazing upward at the obscured sky as he picked at the cat scratches. _It's going to be a long few months._


End file.
